l'amour fait ce qu'il veut
by xX-despikable-Xx
Summary: One is married, the other is emotionally incompetent; but love does what it wants.
1. Chapter 1

**elle me dit qu'elle m'aime – part 1**

 **DANIEL**

Cokeworth hadn't been the Grangers first choice, but it hadn't been their last, so Daniel refused to hear his wife and daughter complain about it.

"It looks like the sort of place people make up to frighten children," Hermione said, peering out of the window at the rows of identical yet dilapidated houses.

"It looks like the disturbing reality people tell children to teach them to be more frightened of the real world than their nightmares," commented Emma, deadpan.

This was not Emma's first cutting remark of the journey. She'd wanted to move out of their London flat even less than Hermione.

Like he had for the last forty-five minutes of the drive, Daniel tuned them out and tried to change the subject to something more upbeat. "No more loud noises at night," beamed Daniel. "No, miss – you two can go to bed, and stay asleep, and you won't be woken up in the middle of the night by the cacophony of drunken brawls. A nice, quiet neighborhood, indeed. Em, I think we ought to have moved somewhere like this long ago."

Emma peeled her eyes away from the window to fix Daniel with a piercing gaze. She batted her eyelashes innocently at him. "Oh, Daniel – you never mentioned before that you wanted to live in Chernobyl. If only you'd brought that up _before_ you got fired, maybe we could have afforded to move there instead of this dump." And then she focused again on the window, while Daniel's knuckles went white on the steering wheel.

"I didn't get fired," Daniel said. It felt like he and Emma had gone over the same argument a hundred times already, but he refused to drop it. "It was a misunderstanding."

Emma looked at Daniel as though he had grown a second head, in true Chernobyl style. "A _misunderstanding?_ You tried to stab a man in the eye with a pair of dental forceps," she said.

"He misunderstood the gesture," said Daniel with a finality that Emma didn't respect.

"You've always been such a... a..."

"A wet noodle?" supplied Hermione from the back seat.

Emma took it. "Yes, right. You're a flaccid noodle, Daniel," she said.

Daniel cringed. "We're here – and don't ever say the phrase _flaccid noodle_ again, thanks."

Emma snorted. "What, sensitive?"

If Daniel had wanted to argue with his wife on that particular topic, he didn't get a chance. As soon as the car stopped in the driveway of the Granger's new residence on Spinner's End, Emma and Hermione were out of the car and unloading their suitcases and bags. "You can get the boxes, can't you?" was all Emma said before she followed Hermione into the house, not waiting for Daniel's response.

Daniel tried to stay upbeat, but looking into the car at the dozen-odd boxes of dishes, books, keepsakes, and whatever weighty knickknacks Emma had packed just to spite him, it was a challenge.

 _I'll just get those later,_ Daniel decided. He took his own suitcase and shut the boot, thinking of how long it was going to take to move everything inside if neither Emma nor Hermione would help.

However, Daniel didn't stay downtrodden long. His trek to the front door was cut short when he spied _him –_ the next-door neighbor, emerging from his house.

Daniel dropped his suitcase and wasted no time going up to the man. He'd gotten along great with his neighbors at the London flat – granted, they were mostly old ladies, and this was a relatively young man by comparison. But a neighbor was a neighbor, and Daniel prided himself on being a fantastic neighbor.

"Hello, there!" said Daniel.

The man's hand froze over the door handle on his car. He peered at Daniel as though he'd sprouted an extra head. "Excuse me?" he said. If Daniel had to come up with an analogy for how he spoke, it would be that the mans words were bricks, and his mouth was a mail slot.

But this did nothing to deter Daniel. "I'm Daniel Granger – I just moved in next door with my wife and daughter," he said. "So, you live here? How's Cokeworth, then?"

"Dad, Mum wants to know if her hatbox is still in the –" Hermione jogged a few paces in Daniel's direction, but froze in her tracks. "– car."

"I thought I saw it on top of her box of bowling equipment," said Daniel. He regarded his daughter, then frowned. Her face had gone chalky white, almost as pale as the whites of her eyes, which had gone as large as dinner plates. Her mouth fell open, jaw twitching in a fruitless attempt to find words. She was staring at the neighbor as though he were a ghost.

And the neighbor stared at Hermione, likewise.

Daniel frowned, looking between them again. "Do... do you two know each other?" he asked.

 **HERMIONE**

Snape.

In Cokeworth.

Six feet away from her.

In muggle clothes.

Gripping a pair of car keys.

To be fair, Snape looked as miffed about seeing Hermione as Hermione was to see Snape. That didn't change the fact that Snape was standing _right in front of her,_ chatting with her father in muggle clothes, presumably about to go... drive... somewhere. Since when could Snape drive? Hermione knew most of the Weasleys could drive, and the Ministry had cars, but Snape was a proper wizard. He should have had the floo, and apparition, and flying and all that.

"Do... do you two know each other?"

Hemione made proper, prolonged eye contact with her Potions professor, and they shared a split-second of understanding.

"No," Hermione and Snape blurted in unison.

Hermione put on the fake smile she'd been taught to use with strangers. "So sorry for staring, sir – I'm just rattled from the – er – move, or whatever," Hermione said. She gripped Daniel's sleeve, perhaps a bit more forcefully than she'd meant, and went on, "We've just got so much unpacking to do, don't we, Dad? Lots of books and pots and pans and bowling pins to set up in the house. We should do that. It could take _hours."_

"She is absolutely right," Snape added quickly. "Moving is a lot of work. If you waste time socializing, it might take _days."_

Hermione nodded vigorously. "Oh, yes, _weeks_ even, if you want to do it properly."

"In fact, I would be neither surprised nor disappointed if this were to be the _last time_ I saw any of you _all summer,"_ finished Snape.

"You're absolutely right. Come on, Dad," Hermione said.

Hermione tugged conspicuously on her father's arm, but Daniel was firmly planted in the driveway, and still beaming like an idiot at Snape. "This is my daughter, Hermione," he said, as though the entire exchange he'd just witnessed hadn't taken place. "My wife, Emma, is inside. We're all dentists – except Hermione, of course. She's thirteen." Daniel laughed like what he had said was very funny.

"Daniel!"

Hermione turned just in time to see her mother come storming out of the house. The absence of her hatbox had gotten to her, it seemed. "Daniel, I ask you to do one thing... Oh, hello," Emma said. Her tone took a one-eighty when she saw Snape, and her face broke into a pleasant smile. One day, Hermione hoped to have a fake smile as refined as her mother's. "Do you live nearby? We just moved. I see you've met my daughter and my husband. I'm Emma Granger – and you are...?"

"Perfectly busy, I'm sure," Hermione cut in.

"Aptly put. Now, if you will excuse me," Snape said, turning to go.

Emma stopped him before he could go any further. She grabbed him by the elbow, jerking him slightly to get him to stay present. Hermione nearly jumped out of her skin – as did Snape, who looked like he'd been slapped. Hermione had set Snape on fire once, sure, but never in her wildest dreams did she actually realize it might be physically possible to make Snape do anything he didn't want to do himself.

Like socialize with a student's parents.

Outside of Hogwarts.

Specifically, outside of his own house.

Yikes.

"Don't be a stranger! We just moved in and don't know anyone yet. We should at least know your name," said Emma.

Hermione locked eyes with Snape again, and all she could think was, _Lie! I don't want them to know your one of my professors any more than you do._

Snape seemed to understand. "My name?" he said. "It's, ah, Neville."

Hermione cringed.

"Neville Longbottom."

Hermione hid her face in her hands, wishing for a bolt of lightning to strike her dead where she stood.

Emma was quick to catch on to her daughter's discomfort, even if Daniel was already half-way through a story about a school teacher he'd had in grade four named Longbottom – whom he and his class affectionately called "Big Bottom", on account of the man's ginormous rump. This was not a story Snape was thrilled to hear.

"Wait a minute," said Emma suddenly. "Hermione, don't you have a classmate with a similar name?"

"No," Hermione said through her hands.

Emma didn't look convinced. "As a matter of fact, I'm rather sure you have a classmate with _precisely_ the same name," she went on. "You know, the one who you assaulted that one time?"

"He was in the way," Hermione muttered.

"Neville is a particularly common name," Snape tried.

A car door slammed abruptly, making all of the Granger's and Snape jump a bit. Four heads swiveled in the direction of the sound in unison. Across the street, another neighbor - this one a dumpy, old woman – had just arrived home and was carrying groceries to her house. She stopped on her doorstep, waved, and called out across the street, "Afternoon, Severus! Meeting the new neighbors? How lovely, I..."

Emma turned on Snape. "Severus? You said your name was Neville," she said.

"Severus is my nickname."

"And what a coincidence this is as well," said Emma, gears turning behind her eyes. "You see, our daughter here has a teacher whose name is Severus. So, that's a teacher whose first name is your nickname, and a peer whose legal name is identical to yours."

 _The ruse is up,_ thought Hermione. "Alright, alright, we do know each other," Hermione admitted.

Daniel and Emma fixed her with a curious look, while Snape scowled in the background.

"This is Professor Snape. I – I guess he lives here."

 **EMMA**

Emma, frankly, was shocked and appalled at her daughter. Why on god's green earth would Hermione try to cover up that their next-door neighbor was the man they had been told was responsible for saving her from petrification – and possibly death? She didn't waste much time being confused by Hermione's actions, though, for finally she had been presented with a much-needed silver lining. Sure, Emma was now the only breadwinner on account of her husbands eccentricities, and they were living in an unholy dump like Cokeworth, but standing before her was the man who had saved her daughter's life.

Emma snatched up Severus Snape's hands and locked down with practiced force.

"Why didn't you say so!" she exclaimed. "So, you're Professor Snape – do you mind if I call you Severus? It's such an interesting name. Besides, we're all adults here. So, you're the one who brewed the mandrake potion, huh? We owe you a massive debt."

Severus looked around wildly, suddenly looking much more pale.

"Don't ever bring that up again."

Emma's eyes stung. And so humble, too.

"We must have you over for dinner," she said eagerly. "Soon – very soon – tomorrow. Come over for dinner tomorrow night!"

"I'm sure Professor Snape is much too busy for that, Mum," Hermione piped up. She took Emma by the sleeve and pried her off of Severus.

Emma snorted. "He's a teacher, and it's summer. I'm sure he can make it." She fixed Severus with hopeful eyes. "Can't you?"

Daniel finally stepped in after what felt like several, merciful hours spent without having to hear his voice. "Now, Emma, teaching is a demanding profession. I'm sure he has... curriculum... things... to tend to. Or something," said Daniel.

Severus nodded. "Yes, yes. I'm so busy that this conversation alone has eaten up any and all free time I might have had for the next... How many days are left in the summer?"

"Eighty-five," supplied Hermione.

"Eighty-five days," finished Severus. "Good chat. Welcome to Cokeworth. Now, if you will excuse me..."

Before Severus could take two steps, Emma had made the impassioned decision to scoop him up into a hug. As soon as her arms locked around his torso, the man froze up like he'd been electrocuted. _He smells nice,_ Emma thought, with her face burrowed in his shoulder. Like spices, and smoke, and underneath it all... flowers?

"Thank you so much for what you've done for this family," she said. "If it weren't for you, our daughter would be... be..."

Daniel put a hand on her shoulder and guided her away from Severus. "What we mean is, thank you – you're a good man," Daniel said. The cheery tone he'd had earlier was gone. "Er, see you around."

Severus just made a small grunting sound, and continued to his car – a bit too quickly to be natural.

"Let's go inside," Daniel said into Emma's ear.

Emma rolled her eyes, and shrugged Daniel off of her arm. "Fine. Get my hatbox out of the car, would you?" she said. Emma didn't have time to be distracted with Daniel's delicate emotions – she had a dinner to plan. "Come on, Hermione."

In the kitchen, Emma and Hermione sat at the dingy fold-out table that the previous owners had left in the cupboard. Emma had found a pad of paper and a pen, and was jotting down ideas. "Vegetable," started Emma. "Do you know how he likes them? Baked, boiled... How strongly seasoned? Do you think he likes squash, or should I go with something else?"

Hermione shook her head at all of these suggestions. "To be perfectly honest, Mum, I know next to nothing about him. Actually, the only thing I know for certain is that he hates everyone, and inviting him to any kind of gathering that is even vaguely social in nature is sure to make him hate each and every single one of us," said Hermione.

Emma's heart fluttered. "Ooh, so you're saying he's _mysterious,"_ she said.

"That is not even close to what I'm saying."

"What – the – hell – do you – keep – in here?" grunted Daniel as he came lumbering into the kitchen with Emma's hatbox. He dropped it on the fold-out table with a sigh, making the whole thing buckle under its weight.

"Just things," said Emma vaguely, trying to figure out if she wanted to serve fish or chicken the following night.

Daniel removed the lid of the hatbox, revealing that it was filled to the brim with steel weights. His face went red and his eyes grew damp. "Emma, you've got to stop being so - so _nasty_ about everything," he said.

"I'll stop being nasty when you get it through your skull that it isn't okay to stab people with dental forceps," Emma said in retort. "If you were half the professional, say, Severus Snape is, then we wouldn't even be in this situation..."

Daniel huffed, looking more indignant than hurt now. "Severus Snape, bah," he spat. "I don't want that guy in this house, Emma."

Hermione and Emma both looked at Daniel with quirked brows. Emma hadn't heard Daniel make a demand of her in years – and Hermione scarcely saw her father angry. "And why is that?" asked Emma softly. Too softly.

Daniel didn't catch on to Emma's dangerous tone. "Well – he's a creep. I guess. Just in general, you know? Remember how Hermione said he tried to kill a kid once?" Daniel said.

"Correction: Snape did not try to kill anyone that year, but I do agree that he is kind of a creep anyway," said Hermione.

Emma ignored all of this. "I think he's a good man," she said with finality. "We owe him Hermione's life, so I think the least we can offer in return is a good meal and hospitality. Unless you don't think your own daughter's health and well-being is worth that much, eh, Daniel?" Emma quirked and eyebrow at her husband.

Daniel bit down on his lip to keep whatever emotionally-charged reply he had prepared in check. "Fine," Daniel said through gritted teeth. "But I don't want you hugging him anymore – or – or holding hands."

"Seconded," Hermione added.

At this, Emma had to let out a bark of bitter laughter. She put on her innocent-face, batted her eyelashes, and said, "Oh, dear – I didn't realize that it was _all_ forms of physical affection, _including_ ones that don't even involve you, that make you squeamish. I'll be sure to stop by the nunnery on my way to the shops tomorrow so I can pick up some appropriate standing-in-the-vicinity-of-men-I'm-not-married-to clothes."

Daniel blushed. "Can – can we not talk about _physical affection_ in front of Hermione?" he asked.

"It wasn't gross until you said so, Dad," Hermione said.

"You are pretty gross, Daniel," added Emma.

Daniel threw his hands up in surrender and muttered something about unpacking before disappearing out of the kitchen. A moment of silence passed between mother and daughter, before Hermione finally broke it. "Sheesh, I've never seen him so worked up over anything," said Hermione. "What do you think his problem is?"

"Oh, I have a few thoughts," hummed Emma.

And she did. Thoughts like those of Severus Snape – his rough demeanor, his elegant profile, the musk of his jacket, and the way his body felt under her arms...

And most of all, the look of absolute befuddlement on Daniel's face when he saw Emma embrace another man.

Emma scribbled the word _PORK_ on her pad of paper with the deftness of a woman with a plan.


	2. Chapter 2

**elle me dit qu'elle m'aime – part 2**

 **SNAPE**

Snape was a master of charms and enchantments, and that of course included household charms. There was no reason why he should ever bother himself washing dishes, folding laundry, or dusting, but Snape went out of his way to take care of things manually anyway. Perhaps it was just the way he was brought up – perhaps it was his disdain for the laziness of most wizards – or perhaps he just liked tending to his home himself after spending months at a time with house elves sniffing through his things.

In any case, doing the dishes had become a nightly ritual for Snape over the summer, and one he found soothing in a way he couldn't explain.

A sudden knock at the door made the glass Snape was rinsing slip out of his hand, and it shattered on the bottom of the sink.

 _Fuck,_ was his first thought, followed by, _Who the fuck is at the door?_

Snape dried his hands, deciding he'd deal with the broken glass in a moment, before going to answer the door. It suddenly occurred to Snape that he knew exactly who it was, and he stopped dead in his tracks.

The knock came again, followed by the obnoxious ring of the doorbell.

 _I've got to have that fucking thing removed,_ Snape thought with a wince.

Another knock, and another, and the bell again.

 _I'm not home,_ Snape decided, slinking silently back into his kitchen. The front lights weren't on – he could darken the kitchen and hide in his bedroom until _they_ went away. Yes, he would do that. No one would ever know...

Snape reached out to flip the switch when another knock came, and he pulled his hand back as though he'd been shocked. This was no ordinary knock, though – no, this one came from the kitchen door.

Snape looked across the room at the tiny window in the door, where Emma Granger peered through, beaming.

Heaving a sigh of defeat, Snape put on his best scowl – the sort that sent even seventh-years scuttling to safety – and went to answer the door.

"Can I help you?" Snape asked, deadpan, as he swung the kitchen door open.

Emma grinned – she was wearing quite a bit more makeup than she had been when they'd first met – and held out a Tupperware container full of pork chops and vegetables. "You couldn't make it for dinner, so I thought I'd stop by and drop off a serving for you," Emma said. "My, your kitchen is just lovely! Do you come here after you're done teaching for the day, or do you only stay here over breaks? In any case, it's quite homey."

Snape saw her move to push passed him, and inserted himself squarely in the way.

"Thank you, good night, Mrs. Granger," Snape said. He started to close the door, but Emma retaliated by leaning in the doorway.

"You haven't taken this yet. Mind if I come in for a cup of tea?" asked Emma.

"Please never come into my house," Snape said.

"I really just want to thank you properly for saving my daughter," Emma went on, as if she hadn't heard Snape.

"That's fine, no need to keep bringing it up."

But Emma kept it up anyway, to Snape's dismay. "You see, when I first heard that my little girl was petrified, I was at a loss," Emma started, suddenly forlorn. "I thought, 'what's a mother do with without her child? Did I do this to her? Did magic do this to her?' I was ready to take her away and never send her back to that awful school, if she ever moved again – until you came in, and saved her life."

"That's nice – excuse you?" Snape tried to stop Emma from pushing passed him into his house, but Emma was too fast and too deft this time.

 _Fuck,_ thought Snape. _Her sob story distracted me._

"So, you live here alone?" commented Emma with none of her heavy tone from a moment before. She wiggled her eyes at Snape. "Or, is there a Mrs. Snape in the house?"

It was at this moment that Snape, well and truly, wished for nothing more than a heard of wild horses to burst into his house and trample himself and Emma Granger to death.

"You're a lot younger than I'd thought you'd be," Emma went on. "Just based off of Hermione's stories, I assumed you'd be some curmudgeonly old square, but you're actually quite _handsome,_ if I do say so myself."

Snape stared at her, unable to keep the look of utter bewilderment off of his face.

 _This is a joke,_ whispered a tiny voice in the back of Snape's head, and he recovered promptly.

"Mrs. Granger, you've intruded for long enough," Snape said with a growl. "I would appreciate it very much if you would leave. Immediately."

The resulting giggle was enough to make Snape's hair stand on end. "I'll just leave this here," said Emma with a smirk, placing the Tupperware container on the counter, "and be on my way, then."

Snape held the door open expectantly, and Emma sauntered out of it with a wide grin. _What's her fucking problem?_ Once outside the house, Emma threw him one last wink, and – much to Snape's surprise and revulsion – blew him a kiss. She let out a musical lilt of laughter, and made her way back to her own house – skipping like a schoolgirl.

Snape slammed the kitchen door so roughly that the mugs rattled on the wall.

 _What the fuck?_

 **DANIEL**

Daniel bared his teeth as he peered through the curtains by the backdoor.

Emma had left after dinner in a hurry – notably wearing the red lipstick he hadn't seen her wear in over four years, specifically because it was too "racy" for her – and Daniel had seen her go inside Snape's house.

He caught her when she came flouncing back into the house, through the backdoor. "Good visit?" asked Daniel, in a tone that very much suggested he didn't want to know the answer.

Emma quirked an eyebrow at him. "Oh, you mean with Severus? Why, yes – it was quite pleasant. You know, I think he and I are really hitting it off," she said. She batted her eyelashes at Daniel so he knew exactly what she meant by _hitting it off._

It had been a proper moment since Daniel had knowingly said or done anything to upset his wife – he didn't count the dental forceps incident, as he had no idea that would have ended with his termination – but by God, he was doing now.

"Are you seriously trying to flirt with that guy?" asked Daniel in one hurried breath. He had to get it out before he lost his nerve.

Emma quirked an eyebrow at him. "Why, Daniel – how dare you," she said. "Why, I'm just trying to show gratitude to the man who saved our daughter..."

"He's a creep," snapped Daniel. "And stop using the whole him saving Hermione thing to justify flirting with him. I'm not that stupid, you know. I can see what you're doing."

"Yeah, Mum – it's actually really awkward," Hermione chimed in from the top of the stairs.

"Hermione, the grown-ups are talking," Emma scolded.

"No, no. She has a point," Daniel said quickly.

Emma put her hands on her hips, daring Daniel to continue the argument. "I assure you, Daniel, there is absolutely nothing romantic going on between Severus and I. We're professionals. We have Hermione in common. He's interesting! We're just becoming friends," she said. "Really, you can be so insecure sometimes... It drives me nuts."

"Everything you just said, except that last one, is definitely untrue," hollered Hermione.

"Go to bed!" said Emma.

"Hermione, you can stay up as late as you like if you're willing to make one small revision to your statement," Daniel countered.

Emma let out a sigh of frustration before brushing passed Daniel so forcefully that he was almost knocked over. "Daniel, sometimes I can't believe what a – a child you are!" she snapped. "I'm going to bed. If you have any other plans to impede my social life, or undermine me as a parent – _don't_ wake me up." She stomped up the stairs and down the hall, punctuating her exit with a house-shaking _SLAM_ of her bedroom door.

Daniel stared in the general direction of the bedroom, feeling very small and very stupid, indeed.

Hermione slunk down the stairs, looking very much like Emma with one eyebrow raised. Unlike Emma, though, she didn't make Daniel feel like a tool by virtue of proximity. "Come on, Dad," Hermione said, putting a hand on his shoulder and guiding him towards the kitchen, "I think you and I need to have a little chat."

 **HERMIONE**

Hermione had seen her father cowed by Emma before, but never to this extent. He looked like a man on death row, clammy hands clasped around the cup of cocoa that would be the last sweet thing he'd ever enjoy. But Hermione wasn't stupid – she knew that he was like this entirely of Emma's will, and she knew how her mother was doing it, too.

She only wished Daniel wasn't so thick as to miss the obvious solution.

"It's pretty apparent that she's only flirting with Snape because she wants to make you feel bad," Hermione said, stirring milk and sugar into her own cocoa.

"It's working," Daniel said.

Hermione took the seat opposite Daniel, still stirring her cocoa. "And yet, here you are, stumbling into traps you sat and watched her set," said Hermione. She gestured with her spoon as she went on, "You're never going to win by getting mad at her. That's _her_ endgame, having you feel like a shrieking toddler whose candy's been taken away. You've got to be craftier than that, Dad."

Daniel let out a bitter laugh, staring into his mug instead of at Hermione. "What, so I do nothing? Let her roll around with any man who catches her fancy?"

Hermione wrinkled her nose. "Don't say 'rolling around' – and no, that's not what I'm suggesting at all," Hermione said. "What I'm saying is that you've got to play her game, and better than she is."

This got Daniel's attention. With a suspicious glint in his eye, he asked, "So... _I_ flirt with Snape, too?"

If Hermione had been drinking her cocoa, she would have spat it out. She closed her eyes, and took a moment to really consider how to explain her plan in as few words as possible. "No," she said at length, "please never do that. Ever. No, what I'm saying is that her whole goal is to make you feel jealous and stupid – so you've got to become the opposite of jealous and stupid. You've got to be suave, confident, witty... like James Bond."

Daniel looked a little green. "I don't know if I can handle that kind of responsibility," he said.

Hermione placed her hand on his, and gave it a bit of a squeeze. They locked eyes for the first time, and Hermione said, with all the seriousness she could muster, "I believe in you, Dad. You can be James Bond if you try."

Behind his eyes, which were red and wet with frustration, Hermione though she could almost see her father believing her.

"That's only the first half of it," Hermione continued, still squeezing Daniel's hand. "It's all well and good to show Mum that you can be cool under pressure, but you've also got to prove that you care about her as well. You've got to show that you're thinking of her, and that what she wants matters to you."

A Daniel's vacant stare, Hermione explained, "So, the first step would be getting a job... and then not losing it when you try to stab someone..."

Daniel nodded. "I can do that. I think."

"And then you can address the Snape issue," Hermione said at last.

Daniel nodded, the proverbial hamster wheel spinning rapidly. "So once I change my demeanor and my actions," he started, "Emma will drop this whole 'Snape' business."

Hermione smiled. "Yes, then-"

"Then," Daniel cut her off, a look of passion coming over him, "I can kill Snape! And this sordid mess will be over with!"

Hermione took a long sip of her cocoa, shortly joined by Daniel.

"Let's try not to actually kill him, please," Hermione said.

Daniel blushed. "Oh, alright," he said. "I'll try."


End file.
